Blood & Water

3. Friday

Rainy Shallows is a rundown ghost town a couple of miles from Noxwood. Tyler drives his beat-up Honda Civic toward the lake just outside of town. The water is a solid block of ice this time of year, but on the other side of fall and winter, the beach is a hangout for various rogue shifters.

An abandoned sports arena sits two hundred yards from the water's edge, a perfect location for Tyler's side hustle. Occasionally, he runs a low-level fight club for shifters; no rules, but the prize money is forfeited if you shift mid-fight. He usually makes a decent amount of money from betting and selling.

Tyler parks in the snow-covered parking lot and pulls a couple of black garbage bags from the trunk. They're stuffed and wrapped in duct tape.

"Get to work," he says, pointing at me and Jamie. "You're not here for sightseeing. And watch your step, it's slippery as hell under the snow. No joke, asshole," he adds as I heave a sigh. "I'll bury you if you damage the merchandise. You got that, Hayes? Break my stuff and you're dead."

"Finished?" I say, slinging both bags over my shoulders.

Tyler glares but turns his back on me, and starts trudging through the snow with a storm lantern in each hand. The icy winds blowing off the lake whip my hair into a dark tangle across my face. Without the lanterns, I couldn't see three steps ahead.

Tyler stops in front of a side door and fumbles for a keychain. Jamie gives me a quick kiss on the chin, but his brother throws a handful of snow at his neck.

"Cut it out. Nobody wants to see that shit."

The bag of beer bottles clinks in Jamie's hand as he steps in front of me.

"It's okay. Ignore him. He's just on edge."

Tyler struggles with the chain wrapped around the door handles. He must have the wrong key, because he suddenly starts yanking wildly on the padlock.

"Goddammit, can't anything work right?"

Jamie jumps. I sigh and put the bags down. Watching Tyler screw up got old a long time ago.

The light from the lanterns falls on a broken iron rod leaning against the building a bit further away. It looks like part of a scaffold or a long ladder rung. I wade through the snowdrifts and bring the rod back to the door. The cold nearly freezes the metal to my palm. Tyler eyes me skeptically, as if he thinks I might attack him.

"What, Hayes?"

"Crowbar. You or me?"

Tyler grabs the rod and wedges it between the chain and the door. Breaking it open would take a lot of effort for a human, but it should be easy for a shifter.

The wind howls around us. Sharp snowflakes sting my eyes and turn to slush in my collar. Tyler curses and pries to no avail. Finally, I can't take it anymore. I'm hardly the smartest person alive, but even I can see the idiot's got the wrong angle.

I move closer and Tyler bares his teeth in an irritated grin.

"Any more bright ideas, Hayes?"

I'm itching to punch him in the face, but I force myself to speak calmly.

"Move. I'll do it."

He ignores me and keeps fumbling. Jamie flexes his fingers to keep them from freezing. When he starts bouncing on his toes to keep warm, I nudge Tyler's leg with my foot.

"Genius? Your guests will be here soon."

"Get it done," he snaps, tossing me the iron rod.

It takes me ten seconds to break the chain. In return, he shoves me into the doorframe and disappears over the threshold. I grab the end of the iron rod tightly, but Jamie catches my wrist.

"Don't do it, man. Ain't worth it."

I throw the rod away before I can change my mind, and he gives me a faint smile.

"I'm sorry. He's a real dick sometimes."

"You think?" I mutter, walking ahead of him with a bag in each hand.

The corridors wind in a dark maze around a smaller arena. Before Rainy Shallows became a ghost town, it used to host sporting events every weekend. Now the place is a wreck. At least every other window is broken, and snowdrifts cover the floor. The lighting consists of a dozen lanterns and flashlights, adding to the sense of decay.

In the middle of the floor, Tyler has outlined a boxing ring with yellow tape. The color inside the tape ranges from dark brown to bright red. When Jamie starts sweeping, the dried blood smears into a pink slush.

I take the bags over to Tyler, who's stacking jugs of booze on a couple of old referee tables. The cell phone goes off in his pocket, and he glances at Jamie before picking it up. The man on the other end speaks for a long time. Tyler's face darkens by the second. He doesn't say much, but I can tell something's gone wrong. Finally, he hangs up and waves me over. Reluctantly, I obey. Getting within his reach is rarely a good idea.

"Change of plans, Hayes. I'll handle tonight myself. You and Jamie head back to Noxwood."

"Why?"

Tyler grimaces.

"Boone Greyson is coming here with some guys. I don't want Jamie around him. Or you," he adds after a few seconds.

My chest tightens like I missed a step on the stairs. Boone Greyson is well-known in most shifter circles as a rogue madman who makes a living killing for change. I've never actually seen him, but he's rumored to be a wolf-shifter and fuck knows what else. The more colorful gossip about him involves his habit of forcing himself on human women and young shifters when he's bored.

Jamie sweeps under one of the broken windows. He sings to himself and slowly turns on the spot. Watching him, I say quietly:

"When's Greyson getting here?"

Before he can answer, the hallways outside echo with laughter and deep voices. A larger group, by the sound of it. At least a dozen people, maybe more.

"Fuck," Tyler mutters. "You stay right here, Hayes."

He strides over to his brother and grabs the broom. I don't hear what he says, but Jamie throws his hands up in the air and saunters over to me.

"What's with him?" he mumbles, eyebrows slightly raised.

Tyler slams the broom against the wall.

"You two unpack the bags. Pour the booze into smaller bottles, hide the pills under the table. And stay in that fuckin' corner!"